


Satisfied

by sukikobold



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M, Family, Imelda vs the paparazzi, Oneshot, Some ideas I've had about what happened in the Land of the Dead post-blessing, also Dante's a good doggo, honestly the reason I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sukikobold/pseuds/sukikobold
Summary: Miraculously, Héctor has been saved from the Final Death. Now if only they could get off this tower without being swarmed by the massive audience of souls inside.





	Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> Man, this has been sitting unedited on my computer for a while. - - But hey, here you guys go.
> 
> Also, apologies if my Spanish punctuation is a little messed up.

_“I promise I won’t let Coco forget you!”_

Those were the last words Miguel could cry out before being swept up in a storm of golden petals and vanishing from the Land of the Dead. The glowing petal between Héctor’s fingers had vanished along with him. Héctor sighed and let his arm fall limp in Imelda’s grasp as the first rays of the morning sun splashed over the tower. Miguel was safe, back home with his family. Héctor’s eyes drifted back up to his wife’s face. Imelda looked as relieved as he felt, though sadness crept into her expression as she stared at him. Héctor tried to smile for her.

_Está bien. Don’t be sad. I’ve caused you enough pain for one lifetime._

Another shudder of golden light went through his body and he grimaced. It hurt in a dull, aching way, not unlike his old, poorly patched up broken bones. His eyes slipped closed, and he could barely feel Imelda’s fingers wrapped around his own as he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

Héctor awoke. Like waking from a nap, he had no idea how long he had been gone from the waking world. He had to blink for his vision to focus. Imelda was still above him, this time with her eyes closed. She held his hand against her cheek and he could feel the wetness of tears beneath it. She was cradling his head on her lap, and the gesture made his heart melt.

“‘Melda,” Héctor croaked out. His body was still incredibly weak and heavy, but the aching pain and golden shudders had stopped.

Imelda’s eyes snapped open and she hurriedly swiped the tears from them before looking down at him in surprise.

“It stopped,” she whispered.

A murmur that had been blending into the background suddenly grew in volume

“It stopped!”

“Someone remembered him!”

“How?”

“Look, he’s awake!”

Across the platform, back by the stage, an enormous crowd had gathered. Audience members, performers, crewmen, all of them were being held back by a flimsy line of the remaining Rivera family members. Julio was trying valiantly to hold back the skeletons practically climbing over him to get a glimpse of the scene.

Héctor pulled his attention away from the disorganized mess and back to Imelda who was still gazing down at him in wonder.

“You’re still here.”

Héctor smiled and squeezed her hand that still held his. “Somehow.”

There was a soft whine to his left and a colorful snout nudged his shoulder. Dante had approached him with a thick piece of red cloth in his jaw. He draped the hoodie across Héctor’s chest before sitting back on his haunches and panting happily. Hector touched the familiar worn fabric.

“Miguel…”

“He helped her remember,” said Imelda. She smiled at the thought of light in her daughter’s eyes again. Héctor grabbed a handful of the fabric and squeezed it, as if he could grab onto the boy it belonged to and pull him into the biggest hug.

With Imelda’s help, Héctor slowly sat up. This sent the crowd into a crescendo of activity.

“He’s moving!”

“He’s okay!”

“Hey, Héctor!”

“Héctor!”

“Did Cruz really murder you?”

“How come you never told anyone you wrote all those songs?”

“What happened to the living boy?”

Everyone was grasping for his attention and Héctor had no idea which voice to turn to. Just then, a skeleton with a camera hanging from his neck ducked between Rosita and Victoria and dashed forward into the clearing.

“Senóre Rivera! Could I get your picture, por favor?”

Indignant at the loss of attention, many others squeezed their way through and ran towards Héctor as well, each shouting their own question. Héctor, still too weak to move on his own, could only stiffen in preparation for the onslaught of questions and cameras. Beside him, Imelda put her fingers to her mouth and blew a sharp whistle.

Just as the first skeleton was about to reach them, there was a massive gust of air followed by an enormous body landing in front of the crowd. The photographer, along with many others, screamed and scrambled out of the way of Pepita as she stepped towards them. She beat her enormous wings and snarled until she had most of the crowd backing away. Then the alibrije stretched one if her wings to the ground by her master and Imelda lifted Héctor to his feet. Héctor’s limbs were so weak, Imelda had to practically throw him over the back of her spirit guide before climbing up herself.

“Familia!” she shouted over the exclamations of the crowd, “Meet me back home!”

She took the front seat and grabbed onto Pepita’s thick green fur as she pulled Héctor upright. As Pepita spread her wings and blocked most of the scene from view, Héctor noticed something was missing.

“Wait!” he shouted just before they took off. They lurched upwards and Héctor clung to Imelda as the skeletons, the stage, and the tower shrunk away beneath them. He pressed his face into her shoulder to hide from the wind.

The jacket. He had dropped Miguel’s hoodie. It should be insignificant compared to everything he had just nearly lost, but it was the only scrap that proved the boy had actually been here. The only piece of his great-great-grandson that Héctor could still touch.

Pepita leveled out into a glide and the air became less chaotic. Héctor risked loosening his grip on his wife.

“Are you alright?” she called.

“Sí, Amor,” he answered without thinking, then stiffened at the memory of what happened the last time he called her that. Instead, one of her hands reached back to find his, and after she laced their fingers together, she pulled his arm forward to wrap around her waist. Héctor blinked in surprise before he fully leaned into her.

“I missed you…” he said softly.

She may not have heard him over the wind, but the hand that was holding his tightened.

Something scratched against Héctor’s back and he flinched and twisted his head around. Dante was happily perched on Pepita’s back and staring at him with wide eyes. Once more, a bright red piece of clothing was hanging from his mouth.

Héctor stared. “Hah,” he breathed. He reached out and scratched the alibrije on the crest of his head. Dante’s eyes squinted happily.

_You really do deserve to be Miguel’s spirit guide_.

He took the hoodie and carefully wrapped it around his free arm before pressing it to his chest.

Héctor still felt weak and his bones ached. True, he still hadn’t seen Coco, but he’d already waited this long. Right now, holding onto the love of his life and a piece of his daughter’s legacy, he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
